At the onset of the Spanish-American War a deeply rooted Anglo-Saxon Protestant
tradition of hostility to Catholics in general and Spaniards in particular was
hardly likely to predispose American soldiers to a favorable view of their
opponents. Nor did a sensationalistic press serving as a willing conduit for senationalistic
anti-Spanish Cuban propaganda have much incentive to present a more positive
image of the Spanish fighting man.[1]
Indeed, Americans were very supportive of the Cuban insurgents.[2]New York Journal correspondent Dalton Hanna’s report that “The
Spanish cavalry is really pathetic . . . ,” the troopers “ . . . totally
indifferent to the comfort or care of their mounts,” while Spanish infantrymen
“slouch along, dirty, ragged, with lack luster eyes,”[3]
was hardly likely to instill a healthy respect for the enemy’s martial
qualities. The general impression was that Spanish troops, particularly volunteers, were “terrible
savages” who perpetrated “great cruelties” on the people of Cuba.[4]
In short, it is probably reasonable to say that most Americans –
civilians as well as fighting men -- agreed with Commander Bowman H. McCalla of
the U.S.S. Marblehead that the Spaniards were “Dagoes.”[5]

Thus, in a letter from Manila to his wife, First Lieutenant George F. Tefler of the 2nd
Oregon Volunteers wrote, “We do not look for much fighting.
In fact, I don’t think the Spanish soldiers will fight.”[6]
Observing some Spanish troops, prisoners of the Filipinos, he wrote that
they were “a very insignificant, lifeless lot of men.”[7]
A few days later he termed these same troops“. . . puny looking little monkeys.
Stoop shouldered, white, and lifeless . . . . We have acquired great
contempt for the outfit.”[8]
It does not seem to have occurred to Tefler the dissipirted state of the only
Spanish troops he had seen may have be the result of their being prisoners of
the Filipino guerrillas. That same week First Lieutenant Charles H. Hilton, of the 1st Colorado, also
camped outside of Manila, wrote to his wife “If we should attack now it would be a snap.”[9]

To be sure, not all American soldiers were contemptuous of the Spanish. Frederick
Funston, commanding the 20th Kansas Volunteers, had served with the
Cuban insurgent artillery for two years, and was perfectly willing to tell tales
of the Spanish putting up a “gallant fight.” Indeed, when he came to write his memoirs he used the phrase
“an obscure village that added to the glory of Spanish arms,” to begin his
description of Battle of Cascorra, 3-9 October 1896, during which 160 Spanish
troops held off some 1,500 Cubans for ten days until relieved, an action about
which Funston said the Spanish commander proved himself “a man of exceptional
resource and courage.”[10]
But such opinions were distinctly in the minority, and do not appear to have been widely circulated.

The war would change the largely negative opinions that American fighting men held
of their opponents, at least for those who actually faced Spanish troops in
combat. This trend can be seen in letters, memoirs, diaries, regimental histories, anecdotes, reminiscences, and
interviews by combat veterans during and after the war. Many of these materials can be found in archival form, and some of them
have also been published.[11]
But there is another source of often unique materials in what might be
termed “souvenir books” published in the aftermath of the war.
The “instant books” of their day, these works bore patriotic titles
such as Behind the Guns with American Heroes,[12]
The Story of Our Wonderful Victories,[13]and Reminiscences and Thrilling Stories of the War.[14]They included letters from soldiers, excerpts from official reports, articles on various events by
participants, short descriptions of the geography, history, and culture of the Philippines, Puerto Rico, and Cuba, and even poetry. A great variety of opinion can be found in these works, including anti-imperialist essays by persons such as William Jennings Bryan.[15]
In a number of cases the same materials can be found in more than one of
these works.[16]
It has also proven possible to identify the original sources of many of
the items found in these volumes, which draw heavily upon the official reports
of many officers that are availabel elsewhere, thus lending credibility to less
well documented citations. This sort of validation is of particular importance with regard to Behind
the Guns with American Heroes, edited by the infamous J. W. Buel. Apparently working on the premise “Si non e vero, e
buon trovato,” Buel often inserted fabricated, if inspiring materials in many of his works.
So notorious was Buel in this regard that in the preface to his own John
Paul Jones: A Sailor’s Biography, Samuel Eliot Morison observes that
Buel’s Life of John Paul Jones contains so much should be catalogued as fiction.

In other instances the actual existence of the soldiers and sailors credited with
particular letters, reports, or statements was verifiable, though it was not
possible to ascertain whether they actually spoke or wrote the words attributed
to them. For example, in one place The Story of Our Wonderful Victories cites a a “Sergeant Kline,” of Company L, the
“Rough Riders,” noting that he had been wounded at Las Guasimas.
Checking “Rough Riders” roster, it turns out that there indeed a Joseph
L. Kline, of that company who was wounded at Las Guasimas, though he was only a
private.[17]
So it seems reasonable to assume that the statements are more or less
reliable, particularly given to the great variety of opinions to be found
attributed to these men, for we find selections that are both very pro- and very
anti-Spanish comments in the same work.[18]
It seems likely that many of these materials would have perished but for
their survival in the pages of these souvenir books.
This paper is based on materials from both traditional sources and
several of these souvenir books.

Theodore Roosevelt certainly seems to have shared the general low opinion of the fighting
qualities of Spanish troops. The first important skirmish of the war, at Las Guasimas, near Siboney, Cuba, on
June 24th, did little to alter his views. Surprised by the fire discipline of the Spanish troops, he later wrote
“The Spaniards shot well,” but nevertheless went on to say that they “did
not stand when we rushed.”[19]
Colonel Leonard Wood, commander of the “Rough Riders” at Las Guasimas,
concurred, saying the Spanish “seemed completely disheartened and
dispirited.”[20]
Private Joseph L. Kline of their regiment went so far as to report that
Spanish troops “had been primed with liquor in order to make them fight
harder,” and that “in many of the trenches we captured quantities of rum and
brandy in bottles and flasks, and even barrels of wine,” almost certainly a
tale inspired by the standard wine ration enjoyed by Spanish soldiers.[21]
Interestingly, a black enlisted man of the 10th Cavalry seems
to have had a better understanding of the fight at Las Guasimas.
Corporal Miller Reed wrote that the Spanish “were pretty good fighters,
but had to run that time.”[22]
In fact, of course, as David F. Trask observed, “None of the American
commanders seem to have realized at the time that the Spanish force had
conducted a planned retreat.”[23]

The heaviest fighting of the war, around Santiago de Cuba, on July 1, 1898, elicited
a number of testimonials as to the courage, devotion, and skill of the Spanish
soldier. After his “crowded hour” leading the “Rough Riders” under fire up Kettle Hill then across a
500 yard wide valley to take the northern end of San Juan Hill, Roosevelt wrote
“The Spaniards fight very hard.”[24]
An old Regular from the 1st Cavalry, which was brigaded with
the “Rough Riders,” was even more generous in his praise.
Commenting on the behavior of the Spanish troops during the skirmishing
that followed the storming of the Heights of San Juan, one Sergeant Ousler wrote
that there were “. . . some very brave and chesty ducks on the other side, who
stood right out in the open and blazed away at men in our line that they picked
out deliberately. These nervy Spaniards got plenty of credit from our men for gameness too.
One of them, a small-looking fellow, stood on a little plateau, within
dead easy range, letting us have it as fast as he could. . . . about as game a
kid as they make ‘em.”[25]
But if the Spanish troops defending the Heights of San Juan elicited
positive comments from their American foes, those holding El Caney gained their
enthusiastic admiration.

Underestimating his foes, a consequence of preconceived notions of the mettle of Spanish troops,
Major General H. W. Lawton, commanding the attack on El Caney, believed the
place would fall in about two hours. And
indeed, the odds were long, with only some 520 Spanish troops to defend against
more than 6,500 American infantrymen with artillery, supported by about a
thousand Cuban insurgents. Nevertheless,
the fight turned into an eight hour slugging match from which only about 180 of
the defenders escaped, while American losses numbered over 80 dead and more than
350 wounded. First Lieutenant
W. H. Wassell, of the 22nd Infantry, who was wounded at El Caney,
later wrote “We were told . . . that we would have no opposition,” before
going on to favorably compare Spanish martial skills with those of the fiercest
of the western Indians.[26]
Frederick E. Pierce, who commanded a company of the 2nd
Massachusetts, wrote that the “Spaniards were not slow in returning our
fire,” adding “we received such a shower of bullets that it seemed at one
time as if the company must be wiped out of existence,”[27]
while Lieutenant Colonel Aaron S. Daggett, commanding the 25th
Infantry, reported that “the fire from the village was . . . severe.”[28]
But Spanish firepower wasn’t the only thing that impressed American
troops. “The courage of the Spaniards was magnificent,” wrote Captain Herbert H. Sargent in his history of
the campaign.[29]
Brigadier General Joaquin Vara del Rey, commanding the beleaguered
garrison, was singled out for particular praise. The Americans were “filled with admiration for this brave man,” an
“incomparable hero” possessed of an “heroic soul.”[30]

And thereby hangs a tale.

In November 1898 Spanish troops were preparing to leave Cuba forever.
A request was made of the American military authorities that they allow
the Spanish Army to take Vara del Rey’s remains home. Replying that “General Vara del Rey was a brave man and we
honor his memory,” Major General Leonard Wood, the Military Governor of the
city of Santiago, assigned his aide, First Lieutenant M. E. Hanna to make the
necessary arrangements. This should have been an easy task. After the fall of El Caney American troops had buried the Spanish dead nearby. The ordinary soldiers have been buried together in a common
grave, but Vara del Rey and the other officers had been interred individually,
in clearly marked graves, with full military honors.[31]
However, when Hanna and a detail of troops arrived at the burial ground
all of the markers had been destroyed by vengeful Cubans.
When asked, a local Cuban pointed out what he claimed was the general’s
grave. Upon digging, Hanna found only the bones of a mule.
In fact, the Cubans were unwilling to give up the remains of the general,
whom they blamed for the death of revolutionary hero Antonio Maceo in a skirmish
at Loma del Gato, near the village of San Pedro de Hernandes, on the night of
December 7, 1898.[32]
Angered by the Cuban action, Hanna immediately descended on the alcalde
of El Caney. Observing that the alcalde
held his post by the grace of General Wood, Hanna threatened him with
replacement and even more dire consequences “If we do not find the body within
three hours.” This frightened the
alcalde sufficiently that he summoned one of the townspeople, whom
he claimed would be able to guide Hanna to the general’s grave.
However, when Hanna demanded that the Cuban lead him to the grave, the
man proved uncooperative, denying that he had any knowledge of the location of
Vara del Rey’s remains. Incensed by this reply, Hanna made the Cuban an offer he
couldn’t refuse. Drawing his revolver, Hanna pointed it at the man and quietly said “Lead us there or
I’ll blow your head from your shoulders.”
Instantly grasping the essential logic of Hanna’s statement, the Cuban
become quite cooperative. Within a short time Hanna had been led to a site that did indeed prove to be the
general’s resting place. Later that day Vara del Rey’s body was delivered to the Spanish Army in a formal
military parade.[33]

Similar accolades were forthcoming from many American soldiers after virtually every
encounter with Spanish troops. This was true even of relatively small actions.
For example, after the hot little combat at Coamo, in Puerto Rico on
August 9, Private Anthony Fiala, of Brooklyn’s own Troop C, New York Volunteer
Cavalry, wrote “The Spanish proved themselves to be courageous.”[34]
Captain Harry Hall, of the 16th Pennsylvania, agreed, writing
that “the Spaniards made a very determined stand.”[35]
Hall went on to add that “the officers must have been very brave
fellows. They exposed themselves to
our fire repeatedly and unhesitatingly,” despite the fact that three of them
were killed.[36]
One of those who fell was Lieutenant-Colonel Raphael Martinez-Illecas, of
the 25thCazadores,
and we once again find particular admiration a Spanish commander who had
“exposed himself with reckless heroism,”[37]
a man who “. . . was wonderfully brave. Three times he rode in front of his men, giving them orders and cheering them on.”[38]

Even after the armistice of August 13th American opinions of the Spanish
soldier continued to improve. Thus, George F. Tefler, who in July had written of his “great contempt” for the
Spanish, would by September write “We get along nicely with the Spaniards,”[39]
while a staff officer who was helping to supervise the terms of the armistice in Puerto Rico was moved to write a rather glowing description of
Spanish troops:[40]

The Spanish troops impressed me much more favorably
than I expected.

They look small beside our men, but they are
generally well set up, bright and alert, and look ready for business.
They wear a uniform—blouse and trousers—of a bright homespun
material, without any facings, but with brass buttons and collar ornaments.
For the head they wear a straw hat, wide brim and a cockade on the left
side. They are armed with the
Mauser and short knife-bayonet.

The cartridges are carried in a clip in bunches of
five, and these are carried in small leather pouches attached to the belt,
several in a pouch. The leather
trimmings are all of fair or tan leather, and far superior in appearance to our
black leather trimmings. For the
feet the men wear sandals with rope soles.
Many, however, had on black leather shoes, and some of them wore
moccasins. Each man had a blanket
slung over the left shoulder, and carried a fair-leather bag or haversack.
I saw no tents and no wagon train.

They evidently do not depend on mules and wagons to
help them conduct a campaign. I saw
a company marching along the street, and noticed that they move with a quick,
springy step, that enables them to cover ground quickly.

It
was not only Spanish soldiers who came in for high marks from their American
counterparts. Spanish seamen also shared in this praise. Common
sailors and naval officers alike expressed considerable regard for their
opponents on several occasions. This began early. On the night of June 1st
a small band of American sailors had made a daring attempt to sink a blockship
in the narrow entrance to Santiago Harbor.[41]
They failed, and had been captured, oddly enough by Vice Admiral Pasual
Cervera himself, who happened to be passing by in a small boat.
So impressed by their courage was Cervera, that early on June 2nd
he formally communicated to the American squadron that all the members of the
party were safe, a gesture widely viewed among the American naval officers as a
“most graceful one, and one of the most chivalrous courtesy.”[42]
After the naval battle of July 3rd American praise for the
Spanish sailors was virtually boundless.

Commodore Winfield Scott Schley, effective commander of the American squadron during the
battle, wrote that the Spanish sortie “was a grand charge” in which the
enemy “fought nobly and desperately.”[43]
Captain Robley D. Evans of the battleship Iowa
reported that his ship had been the object of
“a perfect torrent of shells from the enemy,” whose “heroism . . .
[and] . . . devotion to discipline and duty could never be surpassed.”[44]
Later, in his memoirs Evans said of the fight with the armored cruiser Almirante
Quendo “ . . . I could see shot holes come in her sides and our shells
exploding inside of her, but she pluckily held
her course and fairly smothered us with a shower of shells and machine gun
shots,”[45]
before going on to tell of the “gallant dash for liberty” made by the
destroyers Pluton and Furor.[46]He
concluded his account of the battle by saying that “for courage and dash there
is no parallel in history to the action of the Spanish Admiral” in undertaking
the sortie, and that “nearly six hundred gallant officers and men had fought
their last fight.”[47]
So highly did the American sailors regard their opponents, that when
Admiral Cervera was brought aboard Iowa he
was greeted by cheers from the ship’s company, and his officers and men were
given quarters surrendered by their captors.[48]

After the war, American opinion of their erstwhile Spanish opponents would continue to
rise. Frederick Funston, who had seen no combat service during the war with Spain, but went on to win great
distinction against the Filipinos in 1899-1902, termed the 336 day defense of
Baler by 57 Spanish infantrymen against some 1,500 Filipino troops “an epic of
heroism” and expressed pride in having met the surviving Spanish officer,
Second Lieutenant Saturnino Martin Cerezo.[49]
So highly regarded was the Spanish defense of Baler that Martin Cerezo’s account of the battle was eventually
translated and published for the benefit of American soldiers.[50]

The increasing favor with which Americans viewed their Spanish foes was in stark
contrast to the simultaneous precipitous decline in American regard for the
Cuban insurgents. A steady stream of pro-Cuban propaganda had fostered a very
favorable opinion of the Cubans among Americans.[51]
However, the sight of Cuban troops—even senior officers—fleeing to
the rear at Las Guasimas[52]
weakened this initially favorable opinion.
Nor did the failure of the Cubans to prevent—or substantially
impede—Colonel Federico Escario’s relief column from reaching Santiago on
July 3rd enhance American regard for their military prowess.[53]
In retrospect, Major General William R. Shafter, commanding the American
expedition to Cuba, observed that the insurgents “did little or no hard
fighting” during the campaign, adding
that they had been “a hindrance, rather than an aid on the battlefield,” a
conclusion in which most of his troops probably concurred.[54]
In fairness to the Cubans, of course, essentially guerrillas, neither
their training, their equipment, nor their experience suited them to a
conventional fight, a matter which few professional soldiers would have
understood at the time. Nevertheless,
other actions by Cuban troops were even more heinous.
Cuban troops proved to be inveterate thieves, even stealing from wounded
Americans.[55]
And there was worse. A number of the Spanish sailors who struggled ashore after the destruction of
Cervera’s squadron on July 3rd were murdered by Cuban troops, an
act that incensed several American naval officers.
So angry was “Fighting Bob” Evans of the battleship Iowa
that he not only sent a detail of Marines ashore to protect the helpless
men, but also informed the local Cuban commander that unless his men “ceased
their infamous work” he would turn the ship’s guns on them.[56]

To
be sure, even after the fighting was over some Americans continued to harbor
negative opinions of Spanish troops. Thus,
in the aftermath of
the storming of the Heights of San Juan, Private James L. McMahon, of the
1st Artillery, said “The Spaniards are treacherous men and we had
treachery to combat,” amazingly citing the Spanish use of subdued uniforms,
entrenchments, and smokeless powder as evidence supporting his statement.
[57]
Of course, as an artilleryman, McMahon had not actually been directly
engaged against the Spanish. Those
even further removed from the fighting generally retained their prejudices.
Captain George A. Knerr, Protestant chaplain of the 4th
Pennsylvania Volunteers, a regiment that served in Puerto Rico but did not see
combat, described the “haughty Spanish” in traditionally anti-Latin,
anti-Catholic terms, even suggesting that the islanders be “Christianized.”[58]

Nevertheless, for the most part, American veterans of the war developed considerable sympathy
for their opponents. Indeed, the
esteem with which many American soldiers regarded their erstwhile foes tended to
grow in the years following the war.[59]
Thus, by 1907 an American officer would write of the courage of the
Spanish troops in the war,[60]

The pity of it all was that such brave men as the
Spanish soldiers showed themselves to be, should have been required to sacrifice
themselves under such incompetent leadership.

The phrase “as the Spanish soldiers showed themselves to be,” is the operative one here.
It demonstrates the contrast between the “very insignificant, lifeless
lot of men”[61]
that American troops expected to encounter and those whom they actually met
under fire, and represents a dramatic change of opinion on the part of American
fighting men regarding their opponents..

In the end, the image that American soldiers and sailors held of their Spanish
opponents, an image shaped by centuries of historical conditioning and years of
Cuban-inspired propaganda, could not survive the experience of combat.
“Instead of the ‘cowardly Spaniards’ of myth, who were easily
triumphed over,” the personal reminiscences of American soldiers and sailors
“reveal the Spaniards to have been a courageous, resourceful foe.”[62]
Under fire, American regard for the Spanish rose, so that as the war
ended there was much less talk of “Dagoes” and much more of “these nervy
Spaniards.”

References

[1] Marcus M. Wilkerson,
Public Opinion and the Spanish-American War: A Study in War Propaganda
(New York: 1932), pp. 34-35, notes nine major anti-Spanish atrocity stories
in The New York World in June of 1896 alone. For a sampling, see
TheNew York World, March 2, 1896, p. 6; May 17, 1896, p. 1;
May 26, 1896, p. 7; June 3, 1896, p. 7; and The New York Journal, January
17, 1897, p. 33; January 31, 1897, p. 3; and February 3, 1897, p. 1.
Interestingly, the traditional interpretation of the influence of the press in
moving American public opinion toward war largely ignores the Cuban dimension.
As Thomas Fleming has observed, “We are still blaming William Randolph Hearst
and Joseph Pulitzer, without looking at who was feeding their reporters many of
the doctored stories, ” Foreward to A. B. Feuer, The Santiago Campaign of
1898 (Westport, Ct.: 1995), p. xi.

[2] See John J. Leffler, “From the Shadows into the Sun: America in
the Spanish-American War” (Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University Texas:
1991), particularly pp. 24-45.

[3] Dalton Hanna, The New
York Journal, January 24, 1897 and January 31, 1897.

[5] McCalla’s full statement was “Nonsense, those are our fellows,
not Dagoes,” when a lookout mistakenly identified some U.S. Marines on the beach
as Spaniards. See “The Fight at Guantanamo” in J. W. Buel, Behind the Guns with American Heroes
(Chicago: 1899), p. 52.

[18] Compare, for example, the very pro-Spanish comments of
Corporal Miller Reed of the 10th Cavalry, cited in Jones, p. 438, with the very
hostile views of the Reverend George A. Knerr of the 4th Pennsylvania, cited in
the same work on pp. 312-313.

[21]Jones, pp. 194-195. Kline, to whom reference has been made
above, apparently did not actually see the Spanish trenches, since he had been
wounded before the regiment reached them. In this regard it’s worth noting that
while the U.S. Army had ceased issuing spirits in 1832 and the Navy in 1862,
most European armies and navies still had a daily alcohol ration well into the
present century..

[32] Francisco Gomez Toro, the young son of Cuban military
commander Maximo Gomez, was also killed in this action, on which see Albert A.
Nofi, The Spanish-American War, 1898 (Conshohocken, PA: 1997), pp.
34-35.